


to cease intimacy

by honestlyfrance



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Falling In Love, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Stargazing, Swearing, my writing style is strangely gory for a sec is that okay?, natasha and steve gets mentioned, sambucky stargazing is all im saying, there's a scene where there's an almost car accident but it never happens, writer!sam and astronomer!bucky is all i wanted tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestlyfrance/pseuds/honestlyfrance
Summary: “Oh, Jesus Christ, Buck!” Sam spoke, his heart full of happiness it’s just shaking right out of him. “You really can’t have danger out of your hair. Keep your eyes on the road. You’ll have all the time in the world soon—”“—to see the stars in your eyes, I hope so.” Bucky cheekily chimed in, quickly turning back towards the road, and soon he heard Sam’s charming laugh.ORBucky Barnes, a lover of the stars, begins to risk it all when Sam Wilson, a lover in his writing, had publicly posted about his reluctant crush. Never wanting anything so badly in his life, Bucky took the leap of asking Sam out despite not being sure if this crush was even him, which ensues into a fumbling mess of date ideas that were settled by a walk by the river and blunt confessions professed under the sunset.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	to cease intimacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enchantedlightningwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedlightningwrites/gifts).



> For enchant who is a dear friend and a writer who I admire in their fluffy fics, here's my attempt. love ya, fam 😂💕
> 
> This here is a stand-alone epilogue of cease intimacy, a social media AU fic that ended a few weeks ago on tumblr. You don't have to read the whole series but you can if you want to; it could provide some backstory but that's just it. Please heed the warnings in the tags and enjoy sambucky's first date!
> 
> Leave some feedback too 💕

It's that moment when your heart hitched in your throat and you're unable to breathe freely, feeling asphyxiation nipping at your veins, it’s like you know that your heart was too full of emotion to function right, too much love that sends your heart running a marathon. It was a good feeling, a blissful moment, yet there was that betrayal within it that makes you question your feelings over and over again because there’s that one question running through your head: “ _Why is it him?_ ” but it’s all good, everything’s peachy-keen because you don’t have to hide it anymore — you _had_ to show it now, however, and that was a wave of dread coming all at once.

Seeing Sam Wilson’s Twitter thread, it was like Bucky Barnes’s heart had been lifted towards the heavens, never knowing what love truly was until that moment. It was in his bed, scrolling through his socials as soon as he woke up, already regretting the conversations he had the night before about his admitted feelings for this man, this man alone who stole his heart, that his eyes landed on Sam’s Tweet— _Oh_ , Bucky had once dreamt of this moment, regrettably; just the sight of his crush subtly referring to him but in the most obvious way— He wanted this, never knew how he lived without that feeling until now.

Then, like a wave, it was washed away. Someone had once said that Bucky was a reluctant lover, never wanting to admit that his heart thrummed with life or that he deeply and truly cared for anything, and that _sucked_ because if he kept pushing away people then it never truly came to him.

 _Why was it him?_ That was Bucky’s first thought when he realized he like-liked Sam, and now seeing what could’ve been was a freight train to the face. It resurfaced him, and how oblivious was he? Stargazing and trips to their favorite diner, it was bound to end in heart fall.

 _He’s got flaws, like, why is it him?_ was what Sam had posted around eight on a Sunday morning.

Bucky agreed with that, turning it into a mantra for many months just for it to crumble when he so badly wanted to be that " _him"_ that Sam was referring to. It was like being a starved man in a desert, finally deciding to be selfish for once and drink up the whole ocean. Simply existing with a man like Sam Wilson was a dream Bucky had been dreaming of every night that made him want to rip his guts out and leave it on a rack for display; he wanted to showcase how much _this man_ has made him want to take himself apart, never wanted to be put back together again. _That’s how much I hate the idea of being with him_ , but no — it’s like seeing through a fresh set of eyes — it’s breathtaking.

The mere idea that this person Sam was referring to wasn’t him made Bucky’s heart deflate. His morning seemed crushed at the mere possibility that this amazing person, Sam, an aspiring writer who was going to make silly stories around murder mysteries, won’t be called his, and a pang of worry surfaced when Natasha Romanoff replied to the thread, saying: “ _And…?_ ”

It was so simple, yet she _knew_ it would be eating at him. She told Bucky — She told Bucky how much Sam thought their stargazing moments were the best and how much Sam wanted Bucky to get down on one knee and offer him every ring in Saturn’s orbit and _yes, fuck, I will!_ Bucky’s stupid heart was beating in his mouth as he saw Sam’s reply, and by then, Bucky had to take a moment to sob into his pillows, scrunching his body into a ball because _he just couldn’t accept_ all of these emotions from such an amazing person.

_I like it when he compares my eyes to the forests, you happy?_

That was Bucky. That was _all_ Bucky. _He_ made sure to be a poet for a poet, and he still… _That_ was _Bucky_.

By that moment, Bucky was yelling his heart out, his legs swinging, just wanting to let out all the happiness he has in his body, and was it strange that he wanted to reach through the screen and just kiss Sam silly? because Bucky was no poet, that was all Sam, but to have someone fall in love with you unknowingly was amazing. He wanted to tell Sam all about how he fell in love with the brown of his eyes to the glint in his cute smile, see how much Sam’s eyes lit up with the realization that Bucky had fallen in love as well.

“I never knew what I needed,” Bucky whispered to the empty bedroom of his dorm, and the blinding morning light streaming through his windows wasn't even that sickening anymore; he felt as if a free bird, and he’s so sure of taking off. He wanted to take his shaking hands and clasp them on Sam’s cheeks, caress his man’s lips and just _feel_ that freeing sensation he never knew he wanted.

Bucky wanted so _badly_ it’s almost a curse to have so much emotion in one’s body.

Yet, he wondered, if it was _him_ that Sam was talking about instead of someone better than him. Bucky wondered if he could have this, be that lucky man who got to steal Sam’s heart away. Bucky was a lover of the stars, and he would truly get down on his knees and beg for such fate. He wanted to hold Sam’s hand so badly, just feel what love felt like in his hands, just feel what the entire sun felt like in his hands. If ever he made a fool out of himself and that it wasn’t him who Sam wanted, Bucky knew that a moment like this wouldn’t come by so easily once again.

If it was the case, to choose when was the right time Bucky would ask Sam out, it would be when he was barely awake, drunk on stupid love, courage running through his veins like heroin. Bucky was seeing the world in the color pink and he couldn't see the red flags: _Does Sam like Bucky? Doesn’t Sam hate Bucky? Does Bucky think so? All of the banter was just for fun, right? Sam stole his heart, that doesn’t make him a bad person, right?_ Either way, Bucky was too deep into this to deter now.

He fumbled with his phone as he initiated the conversation, and it was quick, just a nice little chat with lots of nerves tied up in a knot, and he wondered if Sam was feeling the same way, just a bundle of nerves sitting at his kitchen table, unable to think straight as he waited for the other’s reply, and for a moment, Bucky wanted this whole endeavor to go somewhere good. Spitballing like this about dates and fumbling with asking Sam out, it was a tremor in Bucky’s heart, and he finally heard himself, finally listened to the way his heart yearned for Sam and him to watch the sunset or “see some stars.” They’re back and forth with the nerves, feeling clumsy and weak all over. Bucky’s just glad Sam wants to go — Sam did most of the coherency anyway.

> james | Just stare at the river while you let me hold your hand? haha just friends stuff
> 
> sammy | Yeah, I'll go

His heart was all over the place; his fingers stained with the ink of his love and it’s all over his phone screen. Bucky was practically word vomiting as the conversation went, and before he knew it, he’s saying he adored Sam. Bucky added a “btw” after his “I adore you” to make it sound more casual, but there wasn’t anything casual about professing one’s abundant adoration — there truly wasn’t! Bucky was back fumbling with his heart, staring at his screen for a response.

Before he knew it, Sam replied: “ _haha I adore you too_.” and it was a breath of fresh air he wanted to inhale.

The conversation was going smoothly from anyone else’s eyes, but they’d know how much nervousness steered their words. They couldn’t even give a proper goodbye.

> sammy | speaking of that, teach me russian?
> 
> james | wow i cherish you so much

Bucky’s hands were shaking as he typed in those words, even more so after he sent it. Pacing his room in his underwear was not how he expected his pre-brunch game to go but he can’t complain about it, not when it’s Sam who made him like this, helpless and so content, fumbling with his hands and almost buckling to his knees. When he reread the conversation of the morning all over again, he was already kneeling before his bed, buried his head into the sheets, screaming some indistinguishable shriek he could only tell was out of excitement, worry, and distress.

Throughout the whole day, Bucky was smiling so bright it was ridiculous and contagious to everyone who saw it. If anyone asked, they were bombarded with Bucky's excitement for his upcoming date with Sam, and if they were mystified by his date choice, Bucky would only shut them up, tell that it was fate and destiny and all that shit even though it truly was just their best friends saving their oblivious-as-they-are-dumb asses.

It all ended when he was frozen on his bedroom floor after failing to figure out his clothes choice. It was supposed to be perfect, but then again, this was supposed to be a casual drive to the river, maybe they’ll get some ice cream along the way, who knows, they were just winging it. Bucky should’ve taken every detail accounted for, but he was a wreck as soon as he woke up; he was hopeless and he knew it.

Bucky took a moment to breathe, just to figure out his surroundings. His bag was strewn on the floor and his T-square was probably hung on the coat rack. There were blueprints taking up a huge space on the floor beside his bed and his shoes were carefully thrown far away from his project (He can’t ruin the lettering, he just can’t). His bed still wasn’t made and his closet was wide open, a few hangers were strewn about while a pile of nice dress shirts replaced his dirty laundry on the one chair in the room.

It was late afternoon and barely a quarter after two, but Bucky’s nerves were exploding like fireworks. He wanted things to be _perfect_ , even if there was no such thing. He wanted to design a rocket ship and just fly towards Saturn and steal some rings, get down on one knee and wake up with Sam until forever ended.

Bucky groaned as he tugged at his hair. “Keep it together, James. You only fell six months ago,” he spoke to himself as if it was a fact. He felt he was being too forward, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself six feet under every time he had the urge to propose, because hey, if he couldn’t even pitch in his house design to his group in class, then there wasn’t a slimmer of a chance that Sam would say yes.

Even if Sam was writing about them getting married… with Saturn’s rings as their wedding bands… a happy ending of a wedding, essentially.

Who is Sam Wilson and how dare he steal Bucky Barnes’s heart?!

“I hate you, Samuel Wilson,” Bucky’s tone had a bite to them as he spoke to the empty room, but then there was a grin forming on his lips, then all of a sudden all he could feel was the warmth in his chest at the mere mention of the man. “How dare you, Sam.”

He couldn’t exactly call Natasha since she was in her internship, Steve Rogers was fairly busy with his portfolio, and the only other person free during this time that could help him was Sam, and it was _Sam_ who he’s going to go out with. Everything seemed insurmountable now as he stared at his jackets and shirts for a solid half-hour.

It’s not bravery that urged him to pick up his phone, but Bucky’s glad his stupidity led him to Sam’s DMs once more.

> james | i have no fuckin idea what to wear holy shit man

He stared at the screen for a long while before he got up and picked out his shoes; just his regular boots. His _only_ nice boots. He vaguely recalled a moment where Sam liked them so much that he jokingly said he’d have to buy a pair himself, and all Bucky could think of was what kind of an idiot would match with _him_? Bucky thinks about that conversation a lot.

Sam responded as soon as Bucky had already picked some jeans and a long sleeve, and he was practically scrambling for his phone buried under the other pile of clothes he had. Sam had sent a picture of his mess of a room, a mutual friend of theirs in the background, rummaging through it. There was the following text that said: “ _I can’t even find shoes!_ ” and suddenly all the weight on Bucky’s chest has been slightly less heavy.

The mere image of Sam freaking out over what kind of shoes he’d wear puts a smile on Bucky’s face because _thank God I’m not the only one!_ Bucky could finally feel his heart settle at the image of Sam grumbling about his only jacket being with him, and it’s pretty cold outside, nipping fall, so Bucky has now _definitely_ decided that he’d bring another jacket in addition to Sam’s just in case that ratty oversized jean jacket wasn’t enough to beat the cold. Bucky cared, is all.

By the time Sam’s words _“just get your ass in your jeep and pick me up”_ rang in Bucky’s ears, he was already parked in front of Sam’s house that he was sharing with a couple of housemates. He took a moment to breathe but his nerves were less frazzled now, especially as he kept telling himself to treat this date somewhat like their hangouts; casual and playful, their friendship was admirable and a plug for jealousy — and now Bucky’s leg was bouncing, and his heart was drumming, and for a moment, he didn’t want to lose something that made him all warm. To stop his overthinking, he began honking his car horn, and for a moment, he heard Sam’s housemate yelling that the man would come down soon; Bucky chuckled at that and began to change his playlist to something Sam would like.

The moment Sam slipped into the passenger seat, he and his figure hugged beautifully with his plain shirt, his smile burning so bright it would’ve lit the whole of New York City, Bucky, dazed and taken aback, said: “You truly couldn’t try harder with your outfit,” seeing the slight confusion in Sam’s eyes and the glint in them, Bucky finally heard his own words and rushed to say: “You look flawless, is all I’m saying. No contest.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and chuckled, going ahead and dropping the temperature of the air conditioning. “Take your advice and don’t try too hard flirting with me,” he’s casual, but there’s a shake within his tone as he strapped himself in. “Besides, you truly can’t seduce me anymore.”

Bucky found himself smiling, watching Sam get comfortable in his seat, and, oh boy, driving never felt smoother than when the conversation between them started. It’s like a hanging rollercoaster — there’s that high at the start, then your heart beat faster when you’re on the top of the world, seeing the horizon turn upside down, then it all toppled when you fell hard once again, zooming past the time with screams of exhilaration; this car drive, Bucky thought, was a rollercoaster ride in itself, and he thought, as Sam rummaged through their freshly taken takeout, that he’d ride this hell site any day.

And like sunshine shimmering on a summer’s day on the beach, Sam’s smile was a mere glittering ocean wave that sent shockwaves to Bucky’s heart, and he knew how that always felt, all those nights of staring at the ceiling was like staring at a chandelier; that wretched smile was one of those kinds of smiles that fleeted away the very moment you see them, so when you glimpsed at it, it never failed to take your breath away, almost as if killing your heart in the most gentle way possible. Sam’s smile seemed to know you, and it’s a comfort you’d want to be buried in.

Suddenly, Sam’s hand was on the wheel as he steered them back on the road, their hearts hammering in their ears like drums in an enthusiastic orchestra with the blaring horns of the oncoming vehicles. Bucky’s eyes were back on the road as he shifted gear, his throat constricting as his hand on the wheel burned from the skin of which Sam’s hand was placed upon. Sam hadn't let go of Bucky’s hand and he still seemed to be in a state of shock, but then his smile came creeping back, and then he was laughing, leaning into his chair, his hand now on Bucky’s thigh. No sooner had Bucky found himself laughing alongside Sam.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Buck!” Sam spoke, his heart full of happiness it’s just shaking right out of him. “You really can’t have danger out of your hair. Keep your eyes on the road. You’ll have all the time in the world soon—”

“—to see the stars in your eyes, I hope so.” Bucky cheekily chimed in, quickly turning back towards the road, and soon he heard Sam’s charming laugh.

The high was fueling both of them because they both truly believed they could have it all at this moment. No sooner had Bucky’s free hand had intertwined with the one on his thigh, then he could feel the slight shake of Sam’s hand in his. Bucky’s all nervous again because his man’s emotions were just as contagious as his smile, but their hands together were as comforting as it should be.

No sooner had they bought ice cream cones from a stall and walked down the gravel pathway on cloudy dusk. Several people scattered about but they had their privacy somehow in the late afternoon, the sun almost touching the rooftops of the skyscrapers of Manhattan, the sky now a light pink that wavered between the murky green of the river. Their shoulders brushed against each other as they had easy conversation flowing between them as if they had all the time in the world.

Sam licked off the ice cream on his lips as Bucky ended his story, their conversation dwindling into a whisper. “It’s cold, Buck, then we’re eating ice cream. This very bad planning,” his tone was playful, but something ached in his heart.

“Is it my fault? You wanted to come here. You said that you wanted to drive to the river, hold hands or something like that, I don’t know. Your words, not mine—” Bucky said just as Sam laughed and intertwined their free hands together. Speechless for a moment, Bucky searched in Sam’s eyes for any sign of reluctancy, but all he saw was the gold in his irises under the sun and everything was alright.

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “ _No_ , you— That was the first date idea you ran by me.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Bucky sang, trying his best to stop himself from swinging their arms. “Hold my cone for me? Don’t eat it though.”

He didn't exactly need to urge Sam, the man was already willing to take it. No sooner was Bucky already taking off his hoodie, leaving him in his long sleeve. Sam stopped walking, a smile gracing his lips as Bucky turned the pink hoodie right side in and handing it towards him.

With a cheeky smile, Bucky graced it around Sam’s shoulders and took his ice cream cone back. Sam had a crossed look on his face and reluctantly gave his cone to Bucky’s so he could wear the damn hoodie he didn’t even ask for, but as he put it on gracefully as he could for someone whose nerves are everywhere at once, Bucky was feeling as if he shouldn’t see something as soft as this one, even though Sam had walked in Bucky’s dorm half-naked more times than his hands could count, but that’s beside the point. Feelings were out and their ice cream cones were melting, yet all Bucky could feel was the former, the burning desire to reach his fingers out and fix the hem of the pink hoodie Sam had now adorned.

“Cool. You forgot my jacket, I’m guessing.” Sam spoke, cutting Bucky from his daze; to be fair, Bucky thought Sam was frozen a second too long after he finished putting it on.

“In my car, the jacket is,” Bucky playfully mocked, nudging Sam by the elbow as he gave back his cone. “Just keep this one for a while. You look good in it.” Sam raised an eyebrow at that, a grin slipping subtly as he stared back hard. “I-I mean, you barely have any other jackets and I’m surprised for a rich man like you to have a _denim_ jacket out of all things. _Denim_ —”

Sam nodded. “You gave that jacket to me as a joke-apology for my other jacket.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at that, his brain short-circuiting a bit. “Oh. Oh! I did that… thing… which did that thing to your, um… jacket, the-the brown one…”

“That was my coat you’re describing,” Sam spoke, but it was a whisper so full of fondness Bucky didn’t think Sam could become softer. “I’m talking about my black hoodie, the one you drowned in the lake of my uncle’s private property. I still remember you and Steve diving for it and never getting it back.”

Bucky winced at that but had a hand on Sam’s elbow as he guided them as they walked. Sam was shaking his head though, fondly remembering the memory with a smile. “Sorry. _Obviously_ ,” Bucky drawled. “I got that shitty denim jacket to poke fun when I said it would save me from the zombie apocalypse—” Sam laughed out loud at that, had to stop walking before he doubled over, and it was all just amazing how Bucky got Sam to laugh that he had to chime in as well. “—and-and, oh my God, Sammy, see, I told you! I didn’t need to watch those shows, I obviously would have lived.”

“You would’ve died in a pit, let’s be fair,” Sam spoke, much like an impulse, just as bouncing banter back and forth was just second nature to them.

Bucky shrugged. “The pit sounds better though.”

Sam snorted, turning his head away as he tried his best to say through the laughs, “ _This date is a clusterfuck_.”

“No, it’s not!” Bucky yelled, giggling as he slung an arm around Sam’s waist and guided them back to walking. If Sam also felt their skin touching each other feel almost like a burn, he didn’t let it show, even made sure to snuggle into Bucky’s cotton shirt even though his clothes were bigger and softer than some long sleeve. “Sam— Fuck. This is the best date I’ve been on. And I’ve been to planetariums, like, shit, fuck milky ways, I like your company better than any constellation.”

Sam blinked at that, and Bucky could feel his date shrink deeper into his hoodie. “You have bad taste in your dates then,” he spoke, but there’s a quiver in the end which Bucky perked up at.

“You’re amazing, Sam. I like walking by the river with you. You let me hold you by the waist on the first date and you’re better than any person I’ve ever met,” Bucky mused, smiling giddily as he brought Sam into a hug. “Again, I’m no poet, but I know a collection of stars when I see one, and what I’m seeing right now is every star in this universe glittering in your eyes.”

“The sun’s still out, man, it doesn’t make sense at the moment.” Sam playfully sneered, dodging Bucky’s jabs.

“A sun is a star,” Bucky pointed out as he let Sam wiggle out of his grasp, and their smiles finally mirrored. “and every star is in your eyes, I could tell.”

Sam whined. “Shut up—”

“Sh! I’ll prove it. Let me look at them.”

There’s probably a rule out there about first dates, but they’re merely a preference, opinions by the people who think there’s a rule book in the first place. News flash: You go on your date however you like to; it doesn’t have to be a movie date or some casual night out, you can go on hot air balloons or to the moon for Christ’s sake. There’s that one universal cliche though, one that even the straight-laced even know of. The first kiss on the first date should be at the end of the said date, but Bucky’s been wishing for a moment like this since this morning and he finally feels comfortable feeling his own hands.

It’s only a few seconds of staring— No, it was a few minutes. A few minutes flew by but Bucky still had his hands gently wrapped around Sam’s cheeks, fingers caressing ever so slightly his soft skin. Sam’s eyes were golden under the sunset, and for the first time, he didn’t even want to bother to check the colors, for all he sees at the moment was the azure of Bucky’s and all that runs through his head was every poem about blue eyes. Blue eyes, those damned blue eyes.

“Yup. I was right.” Bucky whispered, low and raspy it’s barely even a sentence. His eyes were still searching for something as Sam continued to eat his cone, unbothered by Bucky’s hands as if they were meant to be there in the first place. “Brown eyes are far more superior than any other color.”

Sam grinned, giving himself some time to swallow before whispering back: “Sorry to ruin the mood, but I was just memorizing every poem that ran through my head about your blue ones.”

“Oh, shut up, Wilson,” Bucky pressed a finger on Sam’s lips, eliciting a muffled laugh from the man. He didn’t continue anymore, more focused on deciphering every thought that ran through Sam’s head.

Bucky was free to feel things about Sam now and he didn’t have to question it by now. After years of repression, he’s so ready to let it all go into waterfalls. Bucky had the sudden urge to ask Sam about every single poem that ran through his pretty head, wondering if they were from his favorite writers or if he dedicated it to him. Bucky wanted to carry Sam back to his house and just read his favorite man’s manuscripts and gush about how good they were and how Sam should get them to a publisher ASAP. Bucky even wondered if it was too late to turn towards the river and just stand there holding hands as they watched the red of the sky land directly across the skyline like a blanket. Bucky wondered if it wasn’t too early to want all of these at once.

Bucky huffed, shoulders slumping and hands slightly tense. “Can I kiss you?”

As soon as Sam had made a sound similar to affirmation, Bucky swooped in and planted a long and deep kiss on his forehead, just smack dab on the middle, his mind jumbled as he moved first before thinking. He stood on his tiptoes so Sam would feel shorter than he was, making him feel like the world could embrace him, because maybe that’s what he wanted for Sam, to be embraced by the warmth the world had to offer. Bucky let his lips linger for a second longer, just softer this time, just to make a point.

When Bucky had let go, Sam was quietly nibbling on his bottom lip, his gaze far away now that his eyes were open. He stifled a smile as Bucky’s hands moved to his shoulders, and everything felt like a hurricane, just dizziness in Bucky's head when he heard Sam scoff.

“I thought it was on the lips,” Sam muttered under his breath, his eyes back closed.

Bucky didn’t need a mirror to know that his face was probably a bright red like the sunset behind them. “I-I could kiss you again, Sammy, whatever you want.” he mustered between stutters, but all he could feel as he held Sam in his arms was his laughter once again; Sam leaned in and stifled them on Bucky’s shoulders.

Sam lifted his head before Bucky could speak, looking like an angel with a lazy grin plastered on his face. “Shut up, Buck,” he whispered, pulling Bucky by the collar to bring them both into a soft and fleeting kiss.

What was the metaphor again? It was as sweet as honey and salty as the ocean waves, just every flavor in the world in one kiss. Bucky was no poet, that he knew, that he was reminded of every time he _stood_ beside Sam, but as the man wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, head tilted upward as Bucky stood on his toes once more, even the sky tasted like candies; all a cavity to the heart, the air seemed sweeter than it was supposed to be, and Bucky wanted to drink it all up, leave his heart racing from the sugar high and crash back down to earth with Sam in his arms.

It all ended too quick, Bucky thought as Sam pulled away. He looked sleepy, probably drunk from a single kiss, and that made Bucky’s stomach do acrobatic sequences that never existed in the first place. Bucky’s hands slid down to Sam’s waist, holding the man as he leaned backward, all kinds of drunk now. If a kiss from Bucky was Sam’s liquor, then moments like these were Bucky’s wine.

Sam stood up properly now, quiet as he fixed Bucky’s collar. He popped the last of his cone into his mouth, his words muffled as he tried to speak: “That’s, mpfh, how you kish.” he was chuckling again as he held a hand to his lips, trying his best not to choke when Bucky was crouching by his legs, also trying his best not to erupt in laughter.

Bucky was moaning from the pain in his ribs, massaging the pain away as he clutched tightly at the hem of Sam’s hoodie. “At this rate, our date is going to be just with laughter,” he spoke, a smile leaking through his every word when he felt Sam’s hands untangle knots in his hair.

“And, hmpf, what’s wrong about that?” Sam playfully spoke, a hand over his mouth.

For a moment, all Bucky could feel was the cascading of Sam’s hands on his skin, then he felt the stickiness of his melting ice cream drip on his fingers so they had to quickly cut the moment short and run to the nearest trash bin, their hands intertwined of course. They’ve stopped laughing, but they couldn’t help but drink in the tightness in their chests when they swung their arms in sync. It was past seven in the evening as they heard their quiet conversations mix with the bustle of the city across the river. They knew they had all of the time in the world.

They didn’t talk too much. There wasn’t anything to talk about. They saw each other every day, with friends and without, so it wouldn’t be a surprise that they couldn’t find anything to ask about. How is the family? _Sisters are doing good, next question._ How’s school? _Sucks but they’re excelling; wish it was some other college instead_. How’s work? _I could still smell the coffee in my hair/the ink on my shirt never disappears_. How’s the internship, Sam? _Great but I wish I could write._ How’s the project looking, Bucky? _You know how my group mates are_ — _perfectionists, so good._ For the first time, knowing each other like the back of their hand was a downfall they did not anticipate, which begged the conversation.

Sam’s thread.

“Saturn’s ring is not ideal for wedding rings, I know what you’re gonna say,” Sam argued. “It’s _rock_ , it’s from outer _space_ , you can’t _get it_ for me—”

“And it’s called the Jewel of the Solar System, so no. I didn’t want to believe you because I literally can’t imagine you looking up space facts to spite me like this.” Bucky said, clinging closer to Sam’s arm. “Can’t blame you though. Those rings and the prettiest ones in our system.”

Sam shook his head as he mustered out, “Yeah, but _you_ told me that fact. All of what you said. I didn’t write a whole book around that to spite you, it was so that I could dedicate something for you.”

Bucky suddenly stopped, dragging Sam along as he exaggeratingly held against his weight. Turning back to look, Sam tried to search any kind of distaste in Bucky’s expression, but it was barely readable, with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed, Sam might’ve thought he was considering making a rocket just so he could fetch the stars and forge a wedding band.

He made some incoherent whine and Sam grinned at that, their hands holding tight by the fingers as Bucky didn’t dare walk any further. Bucky brought his free hand to run a hand across his face, trying his best to hide the red that decorated his face.

Sam shrugged. “You know, it’s fine. I could just dedicate it to ma for the umpteenth time.”

“No, no, but sure,” Bucky whined, his face still buried in his hands. “God, now I want to steal those damned rocks away.”

“Is that a proposal I hear?” Sam asked, his voice going a pitch higher as Bucky led the way down the pavement.

“No. Just a thought.”

Sam hummed, his eyebrows raised. “All I hear right now are wedding plans coming from your mouth.”

Bucky almost choked on his breath, turning towards him much like whiplash. “M-Me? You’re the one who wanted me to get your hand in marriage!”

“Did you get it though?”

“Duh,” Bucky scoffed, immediately dropping down on his knees, the pavement digging into his kneecaps. “I obviously know what I’m doing,” he spoke as he fixed himself on one propped up knee, his hand still around Sam’s as they had the area all to themselves. “You know how this goes, Sammy, all those romance movies do — Will you marry me?”

Sam was already shaking his head, but he had a smile that could attract a moth to a flame, and Bucky was that moth, fluttering away into the light. “Fuckin— Barnes, are you joking? We’re on our first date. Is this what your dates have to go through? No wonder you haven’t settled yet.”

Bucky hummed happily, setting a kiss on the back of Sam’s hand before he could hear any more complaints. “Anywho, I adore you,” he spoke, much quieter this time, bringing Sam’s palm to rest on his cheek, nuzzling into the warmth. Sam crouched down beside him and had such a gentle smile it could’ve toppled hell and built heaven within it. “What I meant— I adore you. Forget what I said, I’m just an idiot.”

“My idiot now apparently,” Sam whispered, and Bucky was trying to stifle his snickers. “I… Bucky,” his lips tugged towards a smile when Bucky had pinched his cheek with his free hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I adore you too.”

Bucky pursed his lips as they just crouched still on the pathway, the awful smell of the East River wafting in the air but all they could feel was the flowers in their lungs slowly untangling within themselves, and it’s right on their lips, sweet as honey and as salty as morning rain, all of the flavors in the world right on three words: “ _I adore you_ ,” and damn right they did, from the very start of this mess. Bucky was the first to say it, but Sam will always be there to say it back. It’s like the story about Icarus, except Icarus was falling deep into Apollo and he would catch him instead of the waves. It’s cliche and all that bullshit but that was their bullshit.

“You do? Good, because that would’ve been embarrassing for my part.” Bucky’s voice came out sultry but his whole demeanor was playful. Sam gently smacked him in the face, making him fall; they were laughing as Bucky fell on his back, bringing down Sam on his lap in a tangle of limbs, happiness overflowing their hearts they must’ve realized this was the reason why God created humans in the first place — they had to pour that love somewhere. “This, uh, this means we’re dating— like, we’re boyfriends now?”

Sam was merely milking his laughter as Bucky had his chin buried in the hoodie of his man; high on euphoria, it’s probably drugs, they think, that could make them this happy. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

Bucky hummed into Sam’s neck, pressing a kiss onto his man’s jaw.

“Your happiness is my poison, like, seriously,” Sam whispered into Bucky’s ear all of a sudden, and the man had to pull away for a moment to get away from the hotness of it. “It’s scary drinking it up at first, then as I take it all, I realize it isn't poison at all. It’s just my luck.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, watching Sam’s eyes hold hesitation within them. “Wow… You’re an absolute poet… and… wow, Sammy. Hm. I like that. Don’t worry, I love you,” his fingers traced the collar of his hoodie, but Sam was wearing it, and though they may be lying down on their backside on New York’s dirty streets, everything just seemed to stop just for the two of them, even the words Bucky uttered.

 _I love you_ was stuck in the air like a wire, and Sam seemed to stick to it like a bird to a telephone line.

“First date, James,” Sam whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned into Bucky’s shoulder. “First date and you’ve said I love you like it was no big deal. You’ve proposed to me, asked me to be your boyfriend, then, at last, you’ve said ‘I love you.’ You’re having fun aren’t you?”

“It’s you I’m doing it for. It comes easy if it’s you.”

Sam shrugged, bringing their intertwined hands to his chest as he tilted his head to see the way the dying sun in the far distance danced on Bucky's features, as if it was the last orange it’ll be. “You said it so effortlessly though. Have you been practicing? I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been practicing in front of the bathroom mirror.”

Bucky snorted, facing Sam on the pathway. They both had silly grins, it probably hurt; they couldn’t be sure, all they’re looking at was each other’s eyes. “It’s effortless because I probably say it all the time,” Bucky whispered, and suddenly he couldn’t keep his gaze on Sam steady. He’s dizzy all of a sudden, and his cheeks were warm and everywhere around. “You’re just lovable, even before I thought it was romantic.”

Sam bit his lip before speaking: “You said it so effortlessly.”

“Sammy. Loving you is the most effortless thing in the world. You don’t make it so difficult.”

With pursed lips, Sam turned back and dragged his eyes across Bucky’s frame. “Then why did you take so long to ask me out?” his voice was as low as a whisper, and Bucky was afraid that it almost wavered.

And with the lack of response from Bucky, Sam began to get on his feet, leaving him grasping air as he helplessly watched him wait for Bucky to grow a pair and continue on their trek to nowhere. It was at this moment that Sam realized that they didn’t have a plan. Bucky said something about waiting for it to go dark, but he began to feel drowsy as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows as he held onto Sam’s hoodie, feeling embarrassment cling onto his voice. “I… _I_ didn’t make it easy to love me,” he spoke, shrinking back into himself, feeling cowardly beneath Sam’s eyes. “It’s tough to love me so it’s fine if you don’t, it’s not obligatory…”

The silence went unnoticed as the East River gathered more visitors, the sun dipping low into its bed, painting the sky a dirty orange as minutes passed by. Sam stared off into the distance as Bucky refused to stand up. Thoughts are running through Sam’s mind but they weren’t negative, just some scenarios he kept wondering, because just like Bucky, he also had a crush, one that stemmed from seven months ago. Sam never was easy to love, though people made it seem so easy. He’s oblivious to the bone and to every sliver of mercy he was given, but as he watched Bucky crumble on the floor back to being a bundle of awkward nerves — love never felt like second nature until now.

Sam quietly cursed under his breath, letting out a scoff as he ran a hand across his hair. “If you could’ve let me,” he spoke through gritted teeth, and he heard Bucky whine below him. “I would’ve done it flawlessly.”

Bucky finally looked up with a forced grin, seeing the way the shadows cascaded down Sam’s features like some unintelligible handwriting, all curves and straight lines, gorgeous but not easily understood. Freckles of red danced in Sam’s golden squinted eyes, and for a moment, Bucky desperately wanted to bring some dead poet back to life and beg for them to make a sonnet for this ineffable man.

Huffing, Bucky fixed himself on the floor, now sitting on the back of his heels as he held Sam’s hand in his. “Can I hear your poems? Like, forever?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, but he liked where this was going. “Do you really want to listen to them every day?” he spoke, but it came as a gentle whisper; his heart wanted to scream those words so badly, it’s right on the tip of the tongue to do so.

Bucky giggled, honest to God, _giggled_ like a damn schoolgirl, and before he could even comprehend the words flying out his mouth, he spoke, “Why, what else am I gonna do? You say that like it’s a curse— Baby, I call it an honor.”

Sam hummed, swinging their arms. “Alright, baby, I’ll let you have a sneak peek.”

As the sky had finally turned into a bleak endless void, starless and left for the imagination, Bucky had dragged Sam with him as they started to figure out obscured constellations by the railings to their heart’s content. Their nerves untangled as their arms linked together, watching how the light from the faraway city buildings glittered in the water, and for a moment, all Bucky saw was Sam, pulling out his phone with a sly grin. He didn’t take a picture, but he immediately went into his notes and let Bucky take a peek like he said he could.

_Of all symphonies, it’s the one that our heart makes that proves to the universe that our love is an instrument, and by god, yes, we will play it into a song of absolute intimacy and grandeur even the stars will dance to._

Looking up at the sky, Bucky saw the stars wink at him, and for a moment, he clung onto wishes like a hopeless romantic. He felt Sam’s kiss on his cheek and then the quick poem echoed in the air: “ _of absolute intimacy_ ,” it said, oh! but Bucky, like the recluse of love he was, didn’t believe in those silly things. Yet, he looked at Sam like he hung the moon and Sam looked at him as if he designed the stars, and soon enough, their hearts danced to a waltz only they could hear.

It was at that moment Bucky realized he loved Sam so much that it turned back into suffering, making him want to cease intimacy just because their love was a book too beautiful to open.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr and feel free to ask some questions about the AU!


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